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januaryembrs · 7 months ago

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YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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lustlovehart · 3 months ago

Text

[ Monsters List ] - Sensitive info with targets abilities

A/n: Not my usual writing at all! these details are relationship stuff each character has with the reader that isn’t shown in the main story. (Some details are omitted to avoid spoilers). Now that this is done, I’ll be going back to the main story line now ^^. If i’m missing any warnings, please say so.

Pairing: [Monster!Twst x Reader] Featuring, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Trey, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Epel, Idia, Malleus, Lilia, Sebek, Silver, Rollo, & Neige.

Summary: Dear, [Name], Crowley just informed me he did not give the courtesy of listing all the beasts and their abilities into your possession, please allow me to be the one to aid you. Here are bullets of their names and prowesses, as well as species. Please, do stay safe and out of trouble, and remember to eat and sleep well. Love, From, Rollo.

“Did it send?” “I… I’m sorry Sir Rollo, it seems we were unable to reach [Name] in time…” “…What.”

Warnings: Some fuffy and some aren’t, Stalking, Mentions of Nsfw (Vil). Zombies (Ace, Deuce), Biting (Ace, Deuce, and Jamil), Squeezing? (Jamil, Floyd), Hints of possession in each section, Blood Drinking (Epel, Jade, Lilia), They’re all monsters that are evil so… Murder, Kisses (Kalim, Floyd, Malleus), Blood,

Prologue Chapter

Riddle Rosehearts [ Ghost ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic. [ Magic is a mystery in the field, all that is known is it’s abilities monsters have that aren’t typically in their species skillset, as well as being especially powerful to utilize it ]

- He posses the abilities of, phasing, possession, kinesis (many different kinds), invisibility, telepathy, and short moments of time where he can have a physical body. He tends to forget he’s a ghost leading to numerous times where you’ve accidentally injuried yourself and he rushes to your side to give aid, only for his to hand phase through you instead of truly helping. He feels guilty not being able to help you.

There’s a secret part of him that feels less guilty and more angry, about being incapable of touching you all the time. Sometimes, he wishes he was Ace just so he could wrap some part of him around you, but alas, he can only do so in short intervals, which just… isn’t enough.

- Has a habit of just, watching. You’ve caught him at your window at night. He insists coming in without permission is unlawful, to which you tell him looking at you through glass is just plain creepy. You now invite him for tea parties, yet that still doesn’t stop him from longingly gazing through the glass that separates you two. (freak)

- Glows a bright red when he’s either angry or extremely flustered. You walked in one time when the former was happening and were temporarily blinded, in your own temporary home no less…

With the latter… he was helping you figure out a crossword puzzle from a lost book you had found during the night. When he helped you figure it out, he swears your smile was so bright he was blinded. In your case, at least you didn’t need a lantern to see the page anymore.

- He has numerous stitches on his body, his mouth, his neck, and his heart, or at least, where it would’ve been had he still had it. In the short times when he decides to take on a physical form, he enjoys letting your hands trace over the numerous threads through his skin… He won’t admit it, but it’s a comfort.

- When he’s working, his exposition completely changes. You get scared of him, you forget just how determined he is to being the pinnacle of perfection, even as a monster.

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death.

Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade [ Zombies ]

- Infectious Bites. There have been many close calls where the two almost bit you, secretly hoping to turn you into them in their delusions of being with you forever, it never works though cause when they try, you turn and give them a smile that haunts them so bad they can’t bear the thought of you hating them. The idea always rears its ugly head back to them, but then you treat the two like a regular human and, unknowingly, save yourself just a little longer.

- Anatomy Control (Disassembling limbs and still having control). Deuce has a very common occurring tendency, that leads him to lose his limbs on occasion. He can still feel what they feel, but when they separate from him, they tend to have a mind of their own. There have been several times where you’ve been the one to return a limb, typically his hand, and he’s all fidgety cause it just refuses to let go of you.

“I… I promise this doesn’t usually happen…! I have no idea why it won’t let go of you” with how lovingly it was stroking your hand earlier (which you won’t mention to Deuce)… You’re not too sure either… Does it like the feeling of warmth? “Next time this happens, just… Feel free to stab it” he looks dejected, but you accept his offer nonetheless.

- Ace has asked to sleep with you in your bed because his grave is so cold and lonely. You wouldn’t want him dying alone a second time right? That’s too cruel. He was surprised when you accepted, even more so when you said there weren’t rules like “You have to stay on this side of the bed!” or “Don’t touch me!”, he asked you if you had a thing for him, to which you only quirk up your eyebrow at his question.

“Hm…? I’ve slept with someone before, I don’t think it’s that serious.” … What. Who’s this someone?! He doesn’t end up sleeping as he’s left wondering who you’ve been with before him, little does he know this someone was just a reserved monster hunter who was watching over you with a fever.

- They’re the most attached to you, in a physical sense. Considering at least one, or even more, of the limbs on the duo is just bones, along with Deuce missing an eye and Ace missing part of his face, it’s a bit hard for them to go out without giving people a heart attack. So… They break into wherever you’re temporarily staying, which is typically an abandoned house, and accompany you in every location they possibly can. One very worrying thing they do, is stick their limbs in your bag. They won’t admit it but, it’s cause they miss you. You need to tell them sticking Ace’s eye in there to keep watch is NOT okay.

- Survival: Eating Humans

Cater Diamond [ Ghost…? ]

- Phasing, possession, invisibility, telepathy. Though you don’t see him use any of these capabilities very much. You wonder why but never go through with asking him, how could you when he looks so happy to be in your presence? At least, you think he’s happy. You can never tell if it’s genuine or not… His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes like everyone else…

- Whenever he decides to spend his time with you, his face is never close enough in view for you to decipher any real features of his. What color are his eyes? What does his nose look like? Is the diamond you remember on him even there? The basics of a face are in your memory, but you can never remember the more eunique traits of his. You… Don’t know why that is at all. It feels like you’re forgetting something from the first meeting you had with Cater, but your suspicions tell you it had something to do with his face.

- Even though he’s a ghost, it feels like he forgets something about that sometimes… It’s different from Riddle, who simply forgets he no longer has a physical body, it’s like he doesn’t remember he even died in the first place. You’ve seen him all alone, the sunny disposition he proposes to everyone is gone, a hollow feeling in his vicinity. You couldn’t hear it clearly, the only word heard at all being sisters.

- The moment he sees you it’s like he’s scrambling to change his disposition, walking up to you casually as he mentions how cute you look today, ahh you should take him shopping! He’ll be discreet don’t worry—

“Cater, how did you die?”

“Wha—? W-who cares about that, come on just take me to town kay’?” you do end up bringing him as he points at things he’ll never be able to use, commenting on how cute they would be to have and show off, even attempting to wrap his arm around your shoulder before laughing off at his arm phasing through your body and making your spine shiver.

You don’t miss the way his laugh is more forced than usual, and obvious distress at what happened. Why is he so upset he can’t touch you? Is there a reason he wants to so bad? For once, you wanna know.

“Cater, lets go on a date again.”

“I didn’t know you were so up-front…! But, if you’re asking then I just can’t say no can I?”

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death(?)

Trey Clover [ Frankenstein ]

- The sight of a giant, buff, green, adult man, hovering over you like a doting boyfriend as you bake is certainly a domestic sight to behold. Though it becomes less heartwarming when you remember this scientifically resurrected man is 8 feet tall, he can basically reach the top shelf when he’s kneeling.

- Just like the zombies of Heartslaybul, Trey can disassemble his limbs, but he has more control over it than the other two… You’ve had a fair share of moments where you’re trying to eat and a stitched up hand crawls towards you with a piece of cake., it’s sweet, but horrifying in the dark.

- He’s a glorified brick wall, if brick walls could also fight back at insane speeds. You watched him unintentionally scare off another Monster Hunter once, they weren't intimidated by his size at all, even attempting to throw a punch at him to show off. Their try immediately backfired as Trey stood unfazed, watching them run away cradling their hand. Before you can blink, Trey’s already towering over you asking if there was a pastry he should try making for you. Honestly… You need to tell Crowley to hire better employees.

- Trey has electrocuted you once. Totally unintentional on his part, but if someone asked him what he thought when he did it, he would tell them with a soft smile you look cute. Meanwhile, you’re on the other side of the room trying to make sure Trey doesn’t increase the voltage next time he tries holding you. Everytime he attempts to do just that, you’re quick to jump out the way. He’ll smile softly but he can’t deny he’s a little disheartened... Seems he’ll just have to rebuild that trust.

- Despite all the stitches on his body, unlike Riddle, there aren’t open wounds on his body, so he’s technically the only one who can accompany you without drawing too much attention. It’s a secret kept between the two of you, but whenever you head into the square, you both walk to as many bakeries as possible, tasting whatever you can afford. Whenever he put something in his mouth, he’d make an offhand comment about his family. You wonder… How did Trey even resurrect like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Leona Kingscholar [ Beastman Mummy ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His skin is wrapped in so many bandages, all of them he can bend at his will. You’re curious as to what he looks like under the fabric, but one glare and the feeling of binds grappling around your body is enough for you to reconsider. That’s only if you attempt to look underneath, if not, he’ll sit in silence as you admire each carefully placed bind, cracking an eye open to watch you close in on him in curiosity.

- Watching him manipulate sand just to make places to sleep is entertaining, but being dragged into his timeframe of napping is surely not. The grip he has on you is ironclad as the two of you lay on the grainy bed, if you complain about sand getting into your clothes he’ll make a sly suggestion of “Just take off your clothes” before retreating into a slumber that you can’t shake him from. Even if you did decide to do that, how would you even take them off…? He won’t let go of you…!

- Despite being a former corpse, if he was still mortal, he’d essentially be an ultimate being. He’s super strong, fast, he’s quick at recovering, and even if you did cut off a limb of his he’d regrow in just half the time it took to get it off him. To make it worse he’s handsome, has an air of nonchalance, and a prince. You can just imagine the sound of Crewel and Rollo nagging at you for thinking such heinous things about a beast you’re meant to be killing.

- Whenever Leona controls the dead, you hide behind him. Not because you’re scared of his army, but because they remind you of Ace and Deuce, and you’d rather not see versions of themselves not heed danger whatsoever. You were half awake one time when he summoned corpses, your blurry eyes mistaking two of them for Deuce and Ace, wrapping your arms around their shoulders and pulling them into you. You only realize it’s not them when Leona grabs your from behind and hoists your body onto his shoulder like a sack.

“Wrong Zombies.” he makes an effort to have you sleep more before you accidentally kill yourself for such a small error.

- That little pain inducement ability he has? It sucks. It’s funny when he uses it to telepathically pinch Ruggie when he’s away. But, being reduced to a puddle of pure hurt and strain is the worst. Just watching Leona use it makes you remember… nevermind. Seeing his victims fall to their knees as he drains them of their life force is depressing, the burden of your defeat rearing its shame when he just knocks back and naps as their bodies turn to sand.

- Even when his tail wraps around your leg in a form of adoration, you can’t help but feel disdain for yourself remembering all those who are now dust on the ground because of him.

- Survival: Feeding off vitality

Ruggie Bucchi [ Werehyena ]

- Please tell Ruggie to stop tracking you with his senses and your stolen possessions, you’ve been scared too many times by him popping up out of nowhere. It’s even more horrifying in the night since his face looks so scary (His happy face looks the same as his hunting face. Don’t tell him though, he’ll rob you of your belongings in pettiness.)

- His eyes are so hypnotizing, both poetically and realistically. You’ve seen him mesmerize loving couples into handing over their belongings in his human form, only to revisit them later in the night to consume the rest of his steal. You asked him once what the point is in getting their stuff in the day only to kill them in the night, and he just smiles before softly placing a piece of bread on your lips.

You never take the bread from his hands, allowing him to feed you himself all the time, feeding you with the same hands stained with a bloody ending to a romance story. Maybe… it’ll get his pension for praying on lovers to soften, the thought of having his own might put his thoughts to bay… Who are you lying to that won’t happen, it’s how he lives, and how he will continue to live.

You know it won’t change when he’s desperately trying to hide the red stains under his nails.

- He’s very keen on being in your vicinity. No reason, you think, but he’s just always there, talking to you like normal. Which is weird, why does it feel so normal? The more you ponder it, maybe he’s more natural in your life cause of how equalized he is. He’s laidback yet cunning at the same time, not too good, but not too heinous (if you ignore his murders.) It’s a nice change of pace from people who see, to be heavily relent on one trait. Even though with a kinder personality feel weird… So, talking to Ruggie is a nice escape—

“Ruggie, did you take my wallet again?”

“How’d you think I paid for that bread? Shihihi— Augh! Ow okay I'm sorry—!” he makes it up to you by giving you his portion of food. You pretend to take it out of pettiness, but late at night when he’s sleep, you wrap it up and leave it on his bedside for when he goes hungry in the night.

When he does wake up, he knows who left the meal by his side, including the extras that lay next to it.

- Survival: Eating anything he can get his hands on

Jack Howl [ Human…? ]

- You always wondered how Jack got so built. Of course, if it’s from training, you would never undermine his efforts. But, his strength is so hardcore you doubt it’s even humanly possible. There had been a speech from Crowley in town you attended with both Jack and Rollo, all three of you booted to the very back. When you commented on how you couldn’t see, Rollo told you “We could always move forward—” But he’s cut off with shock when he watches Jack effortlessly carry you onto his shoulder, keeping you rested there for an hour straight without complaint, even shifting the way he holds you depending on what you wanted at the moment.

“We could’ve just gone up there, Jack… Now put them down…!”

“I don’t mind, They seem comfortable here anyway.” You can’t help but laugh at Rollo's overbearing nature, patting his head as you hold onto Jack.

- Hes never answered you before on when or how he joined the hunting organization, literally. He’s so silent when you ask, but the moment you switch to a different topic he’s chiming in his opinion like he didn’t just give you the silent treatment for 15 minutes. He told you he’d never lie to you, so, you guess he was telling the truth about that statement.

- Whenever Rollo is unavailable to you, Jack essentially works as his “replacement” according to Sam. You wouldn’t call him that though, Jack cares for you the same way Rollo does, but he’s a lot less… Restricted towards you. You can go out at midnight with him as long as you let him walk you back home, You can eat more junk food, and you can even go into the forest with him outside of a job! Rollo is oblivious to it, but there are moments where you might, just a tinsy weensy bit, prefer having Jack watch over you compared to him. You still love Rollo though! (Never say that to him directly, he will dissect what kinda of love it is you’re implying for him.)

- Overall, you can’t wait to see him again when you go to Savanaclaw! You’re curious as to why he hasn’t reached back to you after the 2 months he's been there though…

Azul Ashengrotto [ Slime Kraken ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His true form is huge, being bigger than the size of 5 pirate ships combined. When he shrinks himself though, he’s only 7 feet long and huge, rather than 50 feet long and huge! Less scary right? (it’s not, you’re just trying to delude yourself.)

- It’s more dangerous when considering the substance he’s made out of is multi-purpose, making him invisible, essentially unkillable, and extremely capable in offense. You’ve seen it first hand considering you’ve been on the receiving end of his malice once. If you have to admit it though, it’s a lot scarier watching him use his skills on unknowing sailors. You collect what remains of them, and set them to rest far away from the sea.

- During the night, you’re divided on whether or not he can be considered horrifying, or beautiful. The twins glow, but they're limited to their one-color pallets. Azuls body, channels the light from his surroundings, making him more than one color sometimes. It’s a bit saddening when you notice how insecure he is about the material of his body, even using magic to appear more human-like in his state. If you tell him he’s handsome in his regular slime state, he’ll flush in embarrassment. (If you go a step further and hug him as such a gross substance, goodness, he’s already looking through books at the bottom of the ocean about human courting. Never mind you’re still trying to kill him, he’ll slay your heart if he has to!)

- If he uses Magic, he, can turn himself into a human for a little. He never really had a reason to go on land, he’s powerful in the sea, even ranked as one of the 7 most wanted monsters. But, now that you’re in his life, he wants to follow you and see what it would be like to live with you as a person. He doesn’t call it a date, but he thinks of it as one, even imagines himself telling Jade and Floyd (Little does he know they already beat him to the punch on that one…). You take him by the hand and the urge to stay on land with you becomes even stronger. But, so does the need to have you in the ocean with him.

- His tentacles along with his crazy strength, just make him an even harder foe to fight. Truly… What are you meant to do when you’re sitting down and in his sleep, he just clings onto you with a tentacle, and now you just, can’t leave? Besides he’s asleep, how are they latching onto you so hard… They don't have a mind of their own— You remember seeing an article that wrote about such a phenomenon. Okay, so maybe they do act of their own volition… why do they cling so desperately to you?

- Survival: Eating as much of whatever is available

Jade Leech & Floyd Leech [ Skeleton Sea Serpents ]

- During your stay in their abode, you’d wake up to Floyd squeezing you so hard you swear one of the bones on his tail were gonna puncture you. He’s too strong, horrifically strong to the point you fear getting squeezed more than twice a day could genuinely kill you. If you don’t voice this concern, you might risk your death, but if you do, he’ll restrain himself a bit (he couldn’t bear the thought of killing his shrimpy! You’re too fun to play with, let him kiss those sore places better yeah? Besides, just a little biting doesn’t hurt)

- Their senses are so enhanced, it’s just as scary as their strength. You had sliced your hand once, a medium amount of blood pouring out, and before you could even do anything, Jade had swam up to you and latched onto your wrist, pulling you down, almost tugging you into the water, and began licking the wound clean, his eyes empty and his sharp teeth dragging across your skin. You thought he was miles away…?! How did he know you were bleeding…? When he’s done, he pats your hand and smiles before engaging in a casual conversation about your day, uncharacteristically gentlemanly after such a scary display. If you ask him what that was about, he’ll innocently tilt his head and ask you “whatever are you talking about?”

- Just like Azul, their true forms are giant, not as big as his, but still equally as terrifying, the sharp bones that poke out their body further proving this fact.

- Extremely Fast, You’ve seen this first hand when Floyd jumped out of the water and dragged you through the sea to transport you to a “beach date” in the middle of the ocean, in only 3 minutes…He heard of these dates from Azul, “Said he was gonna take you on one, thought it’d be funny if I took yah instead.” You’re unable to inquire what he means by “Azul trying to take you out”, as he’s brightly smiling when he places a sailor's cap on you. The small sight of blood in his canines is all you need to know about where this hat came from.

- Their teeth are sharp that’s for sure, you watched Jade sink his teeth into unsuspecting marine life. The thought of him doing the same to ships 7 times the size of such animals, makes you worried for future sailors, and… For yourself. He flaunts those ivories at you so much, you’re worried he’s trying to hint at his insatiable hunger. (He’s doesn’t bite like Floyd does, but honestly, you’d prefer if he bit you instead of grazing his teeth on your skin so sensually)

- They like to drag you into the water with them. You’re sure it’s how they have fun, the only exposure to the human world other than you is Azul and artifacts they collect from ships they were responsible for destroying. So of course, they wouldn’t know the first thing of human play, yet… you have the underlying feeling they have a reason for doing such a thing that isn’t just entertainment.

- Survival: Anything they can fit in their mouths (Whether it be marine life or ships. Though, these two have a specific craving for human)

Kalim Al-Asim [ Genie ]

- Extremely strong, every time he hugs you he completely forgets his strength. In the moments where he does realize it, he’s quick to apologize. If you tell him where you hurt, he’ll insist “kissing” it will make it better! It’s what worked on his siblings, so it must work for you! If you don’t tell him… he’ll cry, so it’s better to just tell him.

- Wishmaking. He insists on letting him give you a wish, after all, you did save him from being lonely! (You’re not sure if you could call it “saving” considering you were trying to kill him… and still are… ). You never accept his offer, with the knowledge that everything has a price, (Thank you Azul for such a good lesson learned) which makes him sad, but in your awkward ways of comfort, you tell him the only wish you want, is a hug. He is ecstatic and wraps his arms around you, tight. You’re regretting your wish now. Though, the glare from two pairs of slit eyes tells you you’re not the only one who doesn’t like the wish.

- Too many riches too count… You wake up, gifted in gold and jewels, you’re halfway through the day, more diamonds and rubies, going to sleep… Gold and emeralds. You told Kalim no more. He found a loophole and just replaced the cheaper items with more expensive ones. It’s technically not more so… You make a reminder to dump it all on Rollo, he’ll surely enjoy having money to tend to his garden. (He won’t. You already know he’ll refuse anything from a monster. But, if you bat your eyelashes enough he might accept it.)

“Kalim, I don’t need any more rubies.” You’re sat on his golden throne, the optimistic wish granter between your legs with his arms wrapped around your waist as he sits on the floor, a beaming smile making you hesitant on his next words.

“Then I’ll just give you more diamonds!” … Truly, you thought genies could only give out three wishes, why does it feel like this one wants to give you more than that… It’s gotten to the point where you think he wants only you to be the one he grants anything to, going so far as finding a way to bypass the rules. He even gave you his lamp, which you gave back to Jamil upon receiving it.

- You do wonder… Where are the rest of the people Kalims granted desires to? Even more so, the rest of the genies, as far as you’re concerned, Crowley said there was only one left (that he wanted to get his greedy hands on). If you had just searched Kalim and Jamils shared space, surely you would’ve found the corner filled with broken lamps in it.

Survival: Not sure, Either immortal or some secret to survival.

Jamil Viper [ Snake ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Half snake half man, his lithe body is enough to give you pause no matter how many times you see it, even after seeing the leeches who have a similar body. You think the reason might be more cause of his intimidating eyes rather than his actual body however, 2 sharp slits are enough to make anyone rethink their judgment.

- When he sleeps, he unknowingly wraps around you, his human half bunching you in his arms as if he isn’t squeezing your legs. You think it’s just his instincts using use as warmth considering he’s cold-blooded, so you let him (Little do you know he’s perfectly warm enough, his body is just drawn to you for some reason). When he wakes up, he considers poisoning himself from embarrassment.

- Venomus, the long pointed fangs could tell you that much. When he sheds a tooth after meeting you, he doesn’t toss it away like he used to, he finds a piece of string and slides it through the solid, letting you watch him in skepticism as he slithers towards you, gently placing the newly formed necklace in your palm as his forked tongue sticks out. (He also left a little venom trapped inside, in case anyone gets a little too close than wanted.)

- Don’t stare into his eyes to long, or else you’ll find yourself entranced by the slits in his pupils, and completely hypnotized without even his knowledge. It’s like he’s so enchanted by you that he forgets he can do something like that. When he realizes what he’s done, an hour goes by before you come to. You don’t feel any different, but one looks at your wrist adorned with a snake bracelet that wasn’t there before tells you something happened…

You can’t move it from its place, but you honestly don’t want to, it’s pretty. Works perfectly well in Jamil's favor, if you had, you definitely would’ve noticed the two holes punctured into your skin by a familiar set of fangs—

“Jamil, Kalim gave me his lamp again.”

“… Really?” He’s quick to take it off your hands. If only he could wish instead… it would make his life so much easier.

- Survival: Undocumented

Vil Schoenheit [ Incubus ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- You’re human. You’re not immune to charm and flirtation. It’s disappointing that Vil is so good at what he does. You haven’t given into temptation, at least, not yet.

- Shapeshifting, he’s told you before if you have someone in mind you’d ever want to do such things with, he can transform into them if you hope to practice your confession, when you tell him nobody comes to mind, you fail to notice the devious smile that perches on his lips in victory. It seems the only face that will appear in your brain in such moments of vulnerability will be his, and that’s enough for him.

“Though, Since I used to see Neige almost every day maybe his? He has seen me in moments even Rollo hasn’t…”

What?

- Feasting on the vitality of humans is something commonly known for incubi, you’ve asked Vil before if you’re going to die soon from him touching you… You already know he’s an amazing actor so when he answers you, you can’t tell if he’s lying or if it’s the truth, especially when he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips like a prince, perfectly playing off the suspicion in his answer.

- You think it’s unfair he’s so attractive, if he had only half his looks it would at least be easier to not stare at his pretty features— what are you thinking…?! You can already hear the scolding of everyone else telling you how heinous it is to think such thoughts, but once again, you're distracted by the feeling of Vil dipping into the couch next to you, offering a drink as if you two were just ordinary people. To be fair, his whole survival depends on how well he can interact with humans… He only smiles when you take the drink.

- Making Hallucinations is just common practice for Vil, Rook praising him for all the people who gave into his temptations from his feats. You were once sure he had never used it on you, you could never fall for such a puny delusion, but now, your confidence has faded. Things in your memory are blurry, unclear.

Has… Vil has been using it on you…?

- Survival: Corruption of humans through desire, feeding off vitality

Rook Hunt [ Boogeyman ]

- You make an extreme effort to avoid all manners of shadows since you’ve met him. Lurking in the dark is his forte, and it doesn't bode well for you because almost all your work is done in the dark. Even then… your efforts are in vain because you still feel the sensation of eyes burning into you at all times of the day. In these cases, you retreat to Vil in hopes he can rein him in a bit.

- Shapeshifting is a rare and dangerous ability. Unfortunately, Rook of all monsters has it. Even in places with no signs of shadows, it feels like he’s still there. It doesn’t make it any better that he hints towards that being the truth.

“Ah trickster, you looked magnifique in that bathing suit!”

“You were the waiter who kept offering me drinks weren’t you.”

“The way I observe my muse shall not be disclosed!”

- Watching Rook feast on fear isn’t scary, but rather… unsettling…? He places his mouth near his victim as what you can only assume to be their fear twists up into his throat, the horrified human trembling in terror. Such a scary expression quickly disappears when he turns to you with the happiest smile and gushes to the poor human about how wonderful you are, rubbing his cheek to yours like a sappy couple.

“Ah! Trickster…! You are quite sweaty! Shall I dry you off—” you shut him up by throwing the same towel he was about to clean you up with, in his face.

- His skill set is already horrifying, but adding in the basic ability of enhanced strength just makes it worse. You can’t even begin to count how many walls Rook has torn through for you… A simple ow, and what you originally thought to be a brick wall, is now a giant hole with the boogeyman at your call. It’s harder to be nice to him when he’s insistent that you train your capabilities on him. The amount of times Rook has turned a stab into a firm held waltz is just too many.

“Non non, You must hide your hand better trickster.”

“I would do that if you weren't cradling me into a dip right now Rook— Stop dancing with me already!”

- Survival: Fear and Grief

Epel Felimer [ Newbie Vampire ]

- He's asked you before if he could suck you dry. He honestly expected you to say no, but when you reached your arm out and told him to just not turn you, he was sure you must be some sort of blessing in disguise. When he’s done, he begs you not to tell Vil, as the incubus banned him from feeding. You’ll come to regret it at some point though, as now he continuously comes back to you in times of hunger.

- He runs at such fast speeds, it’s incredible to you, you’ve clapped for him a couple times, but, every-time you did… he got distracted and would trip. He wishes the sun would come up and kill him in those moments.

- Compulsion is a dangerous thing, you shouldn’t be shocked, but luckily for you, he… doesn’t seem to know how to use it the way it should be utilized. The moment he does finally master such an ability, you’ll have to find someway to get past that. He did try using it on you once, a simple command asking you to tell him how “manly” he is, somehow, someway, the command turned into something much more… embarrassing. He stands in bewilderment at the way your hands are cupping your face, endlessly praising Epel about how amazing he is, and how you wish to stay with him forever.

Vil and Rook stepped in to save you. He was sat in the corner as a punishment.

- His hunger is, insatiable. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen such a monster so bloodthirsty. It’s like he has some goal to just, feast on as many people as he can… He mistook you as a stranger he could freely feast on, jumping on you, ready to sink his fangs into your neck. He’s only narrowly stopped when the moon shines on your face and he knows it’s you. If it wasn’t, whoever took your place would not doubt be dead.

- Survival: Blood

Idia Shroud [ Reaper ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- With how moody Idia is, you forget what his occupation is until he shows up at your door with the scythe he uses to escort the dead.

- Reapers aren’t necessarily evil or good, which is why you’re always conflicted about how to feel about Idia. Should you… Make your decisions based off his personality rather than what he is to slay him—? Why is he whispering about how all the other monsters should drop dead— Ah, he thinks they’re cooler than him.

- You essentially work as a discounted vent session as Idia talks about how everyone else is so much worthier than him to be slain by hunters. They all have cool abilities and cool looks, what is he stuck with? An edgy cloak and a tool farmers use to cut hay—

- His rant is cut short at the sound of a cheap board game slamming on the table, his eyes looking up to you placing a game piece on the spot, signaling him to take his turn as you tell him how he’s “the only one you find playing games with fun”. Truly, you must be one of the kindest souls he’s had the fortune of meeting, he should know, half of the spirits he escorts are huge douches.

- It just makes him all the more worried about bringing you to the after life.

- Even though Idia doesn’t have a reason to actively hurt humans, it’s still worrying when he describes to you in detail of his After life Capabilities. He once told you a story about how a guy was acting so high and mighty he trapped him in the space between life and death, only coming back to laugh at him when the man was practically broken. He only stops his retelling when he looks up and sees the most hurt expression on your face.

- After that, he sits up before you can even say anything, leaving immediately as he buries his head in his hands. The next day, he’s at your door as you silently stare at him, his form of retribution for your hurt being whatever you mentioned wanting during the week. You accept his gift, but that still doesn’t stop the fear of what Idia does to the souls he guides with a lack of fondness.

- Survival: Unable to Die. (Speculation)

Malleus Draconia [Dragon Gargoyle… And… something else?]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Heavy durability, as he is pure stone. in times of desperation, you watch as green sparkles fly around the man as stone turns soft. His spell doesn’t last long but in his desire he chooses to pepper you in kisses with smooth lips. The first time he attempted to romantically place a peck on your arm, you cringed at the feeling of rough stone on your skin. It hurt his feelings so he opted to just spell himself instead.

- Heavy. He didn’t wanna move away from a doorway you had to exit through to leave. You tried lifting him out of the way, you don’t think you’ve ever tried so hard to move something before. He thought it was an attempt at a hug, so you ended up being smooshed in his arms for an hour before Lilia saved you.

- Camaflouge, the stone he’s made of, and moss that grows on his body can be manipulated in any way he wishes, even his size, it’s scary watching him go from his regular 6 feet to an astonishing 10. This trait of his has served numerous moments where you’re surveying his castle only to feel arms pulling you back into a stone exterior. Your reflexes are swift to throw a punch, only to have the cruel reminder of rock busting your hand.

“Ah forgive me, I did not mean to hurt you Child of hunters”

“My hand is broken Malleus.”

“We can just get you a new hand can we not?” That night serves as the first of having to tell Malleus he can’t always spell you when you’re injured. To this, he tells you that’s nonsense and he’ll expend all his reserves for you.

- Considering he’s also a Dragon, flight, and fire breathing really shouldn’t surprise you. What does surprise you is when he looked more dragon than gargoyle sometimes, his eyes becoming more lively, scales being more obvious, and his wings and horn being truer than they’ve ever been. You have a sneaking suspicion his instincts change forms too, his already heavy clinginess increasing tenfold. You’re either held by his clawed fingers or wrapped in his wing.

- Despite Malleus being marked as one of the most dangerous kills possible, you find it extremely easy to… ask him to do something. In fits of anger, he’ll cling impossibly close to you, trying desperately to attempt to cease the ugly feeling festering inside him. He’ll tell you he never wants you to leave his side. If you’re not feeling like being trapped inside, all you need to do is wrap your arms around his neck and lean into his ear with a low whisper, asking him to let you go. For a moment, his grip will tighten, but slowly he relents, his stone eyes watching you wave goodbye.

- Though, truthfully, You don’t feel like you’re free… Sometimes, you notice gargoyles in places where there shouldn’t be any. Sooner or later, his resolve might break, asking him for such freedoms might not be as easy.

- Not only that but… There’s definitely a side to him that isn’t just some Dragon Gargoyle. Whenever you have the chance to dig deeper into it, you’re met with a wall that separates you from the truth. Just what is Malleus?

- Survival: ???, Unable to Die. Do not attempt.

Lilia Vanrouge [ ??? ]

- Caution: Possibly capable of Magic.

- Certainly the most mysterious of the bunch… To be fair, everyone in the Diasmonia space is filled with anonymity. He doesn’t have any specific qualities that warrant a decisive conclusion, but you’re confident that he’s not a human. Sometimes he has wings, sometimes fangs, sometimes spider legs, just what is he?! (He has used this capability to scare you on numerous occasions, taking the form of a giant wasp and chasing you once. When he gets bored though, he clings onto you endlessly, not as bad as Malleus but still very often. You woke up to him in your bed once, and now he occasionally appears there to “wake you up” by sliding his arms around your waist. Please tell him you’ll only let him do this if he stops turning into freaky stuff…)

- You have no doubt he’s one of the monsters that eat humans. You took a sniff of his red juice once, it’s definitely blood, and considering why you’re here, it’s for sure not animal blood. Out of guilt for failing whatever human is his current meal, you offered up yourself as a blood bag, and he happily indulged, pining you to the table and nipping that delicious spot on your neck. Out of courtesy for everyone else in the castle... You lock the door.

But it doesn’t matter, you’re quite sure he didn’t honor the agreement anyway, as he’s happily feasting on a mystery meat you know isn’t any creature near this castle.

- He always keeps you on your toes, one of the moments being when he used his flight to carry you all over the sky, laughing at you and your body clinging onto him in fear of dropping to your death. It makes it worse that he doesn’t do it slow, he flies so fast you can hear the wind slicing through the air, your arms only wrapping around his neck trying to get even closer than you already are.

“Lilia…! Lilia! Put us down—! I’m gonna die…!” you can feel his hand pat your head as he tightens his grip on your body.

“Aww…don’t worry, as long as I’m here you won’t fall!” you believe him, but that doesn’t make you feel any safer at all…

- Despite how decrepit the Diasmonia castle is, there are still photos of its rein on the wall. In an attempt to know your targets better, you look at some of them, immediately recognizing Lilia in one of the frames… But, his aura seemed different, more cold, more cruel… He was bloodied, and you’re sure that body he’s holding is what you think it is, but, he doesn't have that usual crazy happy look he has when he catches his next meal.

-Just how did Lilia end up like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Sebek Zigvolt [ Swamp Monster ]

- He says you’re pathetic. (He continues to leave flowers specific from his swamp at your door) You’re not… You’re not very sure what he thinks of you…? He says you’re a coward, yet continues to gift you plants after you offhandedly mentioned how you think they’re pretty. So… What does that mean…?

- Maybe they’re poisonous… Heh… Maybe you can use them on Crowley—

- Your plan of attack is interrupted as a booming voice bursts your ear drums, the source of distress being the green being covered in moss, water, and vines. You follow the trail of plants leading from the swamp to the creature behind you, a bear, wrapped in controlled swamp foliage by the monster of the water. Sebek huffs and chastises you for such carelessness, but the feeling of you scooping his hands into yours and thanking him with a smile makes the words on his tongue go numb. Not for too long though, as he tells you obviously a beast like him can handle such lowly creatures, no wonder you didn’t notice.

- Before you came along, according to Silver, the water he resides in used to be a mess, as he said “Lilia believes it to fit my role of Swamp Monster, so I shall keep it!” so he kept it the way it is and let it out control. But, apparently, after you, it subtly became neater, flowers adorning the ridges of where once was messed moss, his water adorned with petals of your favorite color, the place even smelling like your favorite scent. He tells you it’s just a change of scenery for Malleus, not anyone else, you only smile at him, not replying. Malleus doesn’t have the same favorite scent.

- Like his fondness for nature, his power of water is equally as tantalizing to watch. He didn’t know you were there, but you were watching him train, your eyes becoming more entranced in his movements when you saw him become sidetracked from his patience for a moment. A book was laid in front of him, one that he delved deeper and deeper into with interest. It seems he has a fondness for literature, so after that, you would leave books you had at his residence, watching with amusement at how fascinated he was. Unfortunately, you walked up to him once when he was meant to be training, and in attempt to hide his hobby, he flicked his hands and let the water swallow every page in aqua.

“I have been training this whole time human…!”

“Ah, I got you all those. Now they’re wet…” He acts like he doesn’t care, but he secretly feels bad, so discreetly, he attempts to piece every page lost in the water together before presenting you with a new book.

- Survival: Swamp

Silver [ ??? ]

- Honestly, his abilities are lighthearted when not used to a heavy extent. He can eat dreams of those who sleep, typically, nightmares. There have been rumors spreading of a night creature who creeps into rooms, sucking the ambitions and hopes of its victims… They’re not wrong, if he’s called upon too often he’ll strip the person of all their wants and, dreams. Go a step further, and he might as well suck the life out of a human.

- But… You know he doesn’t mean to… At least you hope not.

- Sometimes your judgment feels misplaced when you watch him go overboard in his hunger, his trance only capable of being broken when you grab him by the shoulder, maybe even point a blade at him in desperation.

- He can travel into dreams. You’ve caught him lurking in your conscious one too many times to count. It’s not like he’s devouring your fantasy, but you can’t help and wonder why he’s almost always there. He doesn’t change what’s happening in it, he doesn’t destroy it so… Why is he there so often?

- it’s ironic, a creature who lives off the manifestation of people’s conscious, sleeps so much. You remember sorting through flowers Sebek had “gifted” you, (You’re not sure if it counts as gifted considering he threw them at you saying “they’re frail, just like a weak human.”) and Silver had sat right next to you, begining a sentence before dropping his head into your lap, a deep slumber commencing on your thighs.

- He wakes up ready to apologize, but the feeling of your hands gently playing with his hair, is enough for him to fall back asleep immediately.

- He’s a lot more welcoming to stay with compared to the rest of the monstrous residents of Diasmonia. If you’re free from Malleus and Lilias's grasp, you’re quick to run over to him. He’s typically sleeping, so, when he’s nodding off you sit down next to him, slowly placing your head on his shoulder as you fall asleep. If you’re to be trapped here for a bit, it wouldn't hurt to have some form of comfort in this run-down place.

As you fall into slumber, you secretly wish to meet Silver in a dream again.

It’s coincidental that he wakes up the moment you place your head on him, it’s a pretty sight to him. He hopes… you’ll stay here, he enjoys your company too much. As soft snores leave you, his hands move on their own, grasping onto your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours.

It’s selfish, he was raised to do what he must to survive as a monster by his father. So he knows, what he feels is natural, but there’s a lingering thought he shouldn’t feel this heavy about a human… He doesn’t wanna let you go.

- Survival: Dream Feasting

Neige Leblanche [ Angel ]

- It’s… a bit unnerving how kind he is… You understand he’s a supposed Guardian Angel specially dedicated to your well but goodness, he was not very good at his job.

- He essentially watches you go about your day, occasionally blessing you to see your eyes light up with happiness.

- Despite how much he grooms the feathers on his back, he never lets you get too close to them, folding them back up when you’re near enough to see them more intricately or graze your fingers on them. It never bothered you, truly, he’s so nice to to you you could never be suspicious of him.

- He had to attend to personal matters once when you were eating together, his wings fluttering before he ascended. A pair of feathers had fallen in place of where he once was, One plumage was as white as snow, and the other…

- Was as dark as ebony.

- Survival: Being Good

Rollo Flamme [ Human ]

- He’s always been by your side.

- He would never be one of those wretched filthy beasts. He’s always cared for you when you couldn’t care for yourself.

- Don’t look at him like that. Why… Why is there scorn in your eyes…? He’d never hurt you, never.

- You’re the only sanctuary of purity in his life, he wants to embrace you. He always has, your happiness has always been his.

- He has always wanted to save you from the hellish life mother nature had dealt you.

So please…

- Let him hug the one thing he cares for one more time. And…

Forget the white lie he gave you.

- Survival: You

The day is today. The date you left Rollo without saying even the slightest hint of a farewell. It has been 364 days, without you.

It’s a sorrowing sight for coworkers of his who know how close you are. But, if they had just looked closer, the looming feeling of festering jealousy would no doubt impede their senses.

Rollo knows he can feel it. He will find a way to drag whatever wretched beasts are ruining you with their filth, down to hell.

“Ah! Mr.Flamme, Hello Hello—!” ringed fingers slam mercilessly into the wood of a desk, any harder and he might’ve broken it. “Be careful…! This desk is expensive…!”

“It’s been a year since [Name] left for these jobs… Why aren’t they back?” Rollos on the verge of bursting a vein, the only composure he has left is strung together by the thin thread of hope he has of you coming back, coming back to him.

“Well, My little Birdie is—”

“There is no My, and there is no Birdie, don’t call them that.”

“Possesive much…”

“It’s not posseviness.” Crowley only nods at him, obviously, he doesn’t believe the man, but he’ll pretend if it means moving this conversation along.

“I will answer your question in due time, now would you please… remind yourself why it is you’re here in the first place?”

———

A/n Did I do a shit ton of research about monsters and their abilities for this, a post that was meant to be a shitpost? No, who would do that? (I would). Anyways, I hope this can satisfy Monster!Twst enjoyers while I work on the heartslaybul chapter, I promise I’m working on it to make it the best possible! (Blame the economy for my lack of activity on it)

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fiercynn · 9 months ago

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okay, if you have ever made or reblogged a “hold your nose and vote for biden” post, this is for you.

here’s the fucking thing about these kinds of posts. i've been seeing them since i first returned to tumblr in, I think, late 2022? they've certainly increased in frequency since october 7, but they were there before too, ready to counter any kind of opposition to biden that has cropped up. many of them are not just trying to educate people about what positive things biden has done, which, like, at least I can understand the motivation behind those ones? but so many of them are directly in response to people criticizing biden, and their only real point is “sure you’re upset at this thing biden did, but have you considered the election?” starting YEARS before the next presidential election, mind you.

and october 7 only made that clearer. i don’t think it had been a week before i saw these posts cropping up. can you not see how fucking ghoulish that is? to look at the rightful pain and anger of those whose relatives and communities are being slaughtered with active american support, to respond to one of the few pieces of agency most americans have in influencing what their governments do – their vote – by saying “yes but trump would be worse.” as if the primary people you’re lecturing – palestinians, muslims, arabs, black people, indigenous people, disabled people, other marginalized people – don’t remember exactly how bad it was under trump!

and even if you think not voting is an empty gesture – something i, who studied political science at a mainstream american lib college, who has worked as a field organizer on a previous democratic presidential campaign and for several policy campaigns, who currently works in public policy in america, used to believe, but have absolutely changed my mind on – what is in no way an empty gesture is saying publicly that you will not vote for someone. the arguments people usually have about why simply not voting is bad are that you can’t tell why someone is not voting, so it is as likely to be apathy or disenfranchisement as it is a political statement. but saying publicly that you will not vote for someone, and why you will not vote for them, absolutely is a political statement, and potentially a powerful one! but you choose to negate and/or ignore that by trotting out the “lesser of two evils” bullshit.

and then there’s the whole “yes but people will DIE under trump”. PEOPLE ARE DYING NOW. even if you’re fucking racist and have decided that palestinian lives don’t count, have you forgotten biden’s ongoing covid minimalism and dismantling of the CDC’s covid research and prevention infrastructure? have you forgotten his increase in spending for law enforcement scant years after the murder of george floyd and his administration's surveillance of protesters, including cop city protesters? have you forgotten his recent ramp-up in deportations of undocumented immigrants, including the active continuation of many trump-era policies?

maybe you have forgotten all those things and do purport to care about palestinians, but you just think that biden is doing his best to influence netanyahu and is getting nowhere! but then you must have forgotten all of the things that biden and his administration themselves have done to further this fucking genocide, including:

continuing to send arms to israel

putting together a military task force within days of yemen’s red sea blockade and attacking yemeni ships

bombing yemen

bombing syria

bombing iraq

vetoing three ceasefire resolutions at the united nations

testifying to defend israel and its genocide and occupation at the international court of justice

refusing to rescue palestinian-americans stuck in gaza

halting funding to the united nations relief and works agency for palestinian refugees (UNRWA) based on israeli claims that 12 of UNRWA’s over 30,000 staff were hamas agents, even though u.s. intelligence has not been able to independently verify this

lying that he’s personally seen photos of babies beheaded by hamas when he hadn’t because they didn’t exist (and even when his own staff cautioned him that reports of beheaded babies may not be credible)

questioning the number of palestinian deaths reported by the gaza ministry of health (when even israel has not questioned them, since they are in fact proud of those numbers)

perpetuating lies about hamas having committed the attack on al-aqsa hospital

questioning united nations reports of adults and children raped by israeli soldiers while claiming to have proof (that no one else has seen) of hamas doing the same

honestly so many more things that i can’t remember them all but others feel free to add

or maybe you haven’t forgotten any of that, and think that you’re still justified in lecturing people about why they should vote for biden, because you genuinely believe trump would still be worse. if that is the case, you have still failed to see that by saying you will vote for biden no matter what, you are part of the problem of biden continuing to act like this. because biden is counting on fear of trump to win him this next election no matter what else he does. despite his appalling polling numbers, despite the knowledge that he is losing the palestinian-american vote, the arab-american vote, the muslim-american vote, the black american vote, the youth vote – despite all of that, he is secure in the idea that he will still win because he is better than trump. can you not see how that allows him to act without impunity? how it becomes increasingly impossible for his base to influence what he’s doing if he thinks that they will be with him no matter what? this is how you make yourself complicit to biden’s actions, by not affording anyone even the slightest power to hold him accountable for anything.

and in most cases, the “hold your nose and vote for biden” thing is the response of people who aren’t even being instructed by others not to vote for biden. it is their response to people saying they themselves are choosing not to vote for biden. fucking ghoulish.

#fuck biden #u.s. politics #free palestine #genocide #covid #immigrant justice #prison abolition #police abolition #ableism #from the river to the sea palestine will be free

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fear-is-truth · 1 month ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ ⭑ 𝐝𝐫. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐰

⟢ tags — fem!reader﹒established relationship﹒domestic fluff﹒nsfw﹒mdni﹒cōckwarming﹒smut﹒kinky rp﹒somno﹒vaginal fingēring﹒oral sex

a/n: ngl him as a doctor is even hotter to me

when charlie doesn’t have long shifts, he always picks up your favourite takeout and the two of you enjoy dinner together. chatting about your day while unwinding, enjoying the little moments before his next busy work stretch.

on nights when he has to work super late, you try your best to stay awake and wait for him, but usually end up curled on the couch, asleep. when he gets home, he kisses your forehead, and carries you to bed. he whispers in your ear about how much he missed you during his shift.

even though he’s exhausted from his long hours, you have movie nights at least once a week. he lets you pick the movie, but sometimes falls asleep halfway through with his head resting on your shoulder.

often surprises you with flowers and chocolate on random days. fancy and extravagant—he compensates for his long working hours by spoiling you rotten.

if you so much as sneeze, he’s goes straight to ‘doctor mode’, fussing over you.

doesn’t mind that your clothes take up more space in the closet than his. in fact, he loves seeing your cute outfits hanging next to his scrubs and casual clothes—it makes the apartment feel like home.

always finds time to text you, even if it’s just a quick “miss you” or “i love you.”

whenever charlie works overnight, you prepare a little care package for him—his favourite snacks, a note, and something comforting from home like a little keepsake or a sweater with your perfume.

nsfw — mdni

eats you out at any given opportunity, laying you down on the nearest surface before going down on you. his fingers are never idle — tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your tits, or finger-fucking you.

being in the medical field, charlie knows how to use his fingers. and he loves using them to pleasure you just as much as you love having him use them.

explaining the anatomy of the female external reproduction system to you while he scissors his skilful fingers in your cunt.

after particularly long and stressful shifts, charlie finds comfort in releasing all the pent-up tension by fucking into you nice and deep, bottoming out with each thrust.

sitting in his lap while he reads medical journals or reports. feeling that heavenly stretch of his cock breaching the bottom of your tummy.

consensual somno. wearing an oversized t-shirt, no bra and panties underneath to allow him easy access — sleeping soundly while he eases his cock inside of you.

keeps your nudes tucked in his wallet.

kinky roleplaying — doctor & nurse, priest & nun, college professor & student etc.

#dr charlie mayhew #grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x you #charlie mayhew headcanons #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

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hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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luveline · 6 months ago

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oh my, oh my. I adored your fics where reader is smitten over reid with his glasses and then where reid is smitten with reader in her glasses! can I request something similar with hotch, where he's the one flustered - or, at least, his reaction lol - by reader wearing her glasses for the first time? <3

thank you for your request <3 fem

“Hotch, can I ask you something?”

He hadn’t heard you knock, lost in thought behind his desk, and he knows you won’t begrudge him for failing to look up. “Of course,” he says.

“I went to the eye doctor a few days ago and everything was fine, but she said my contacts are gonna keep degrading my eye health, apparently, if I keep wearing them. Do you think I could wear my glasses in the field?”

Hotch takes a moment for your asking to catch up with him, desperately printing the last of his thoughts into a consult note. He makes a spelling mistake in his rush. Frowning, he crosses it out and corrects it neatly. “Uh, you want to start wearing glasses in the field?”

“Yeah. Do you think that would work?”

“I don’t see why not.” He stops himself firmly, before he can call you honey. Hotch doesn’t want to patronise or condescend you even in his thoughts, but he has to remark to himself that you sound adorably over-concerned. “Reid picks and chooses when he wears his own glasses, and he’s never…”

He’d finally managed to tear his gaze from his desk and found you standing further away than he’d thought, in a black pencil skirt that flares out gently at the end like a flower bulb, a neat shirt with a triangular collar showcasing just a slip of your chest and the small silver necklace you wear. None of this is unusual, Hotch is used to finding you charming and lovely by now, it’s the glasses that shock him. He hadn’t realised you’d actually be wearing them.

They’re not thick nor too thin, simple black frames made of a translucent plastic. They’re glasses like any other, and Hotch can’t diagnose his own reaction to it. Perhaps it’s how they sit on your nose, or the cutesying effect they give your expression. They make your eyes look a little darker than usual. They’re everything.

“Hotch?” you ask.

“He’s never had any problems,” Hotch finishes, ever so slightly breathless, his hands falling to his thighs.

“They look stupid.”

“What?”

You raise the back of your hand to your cheek and press it there with fingers curled loosely inward, “I know they look silly, I haven’t worn them in a while, but my eyes hurt everyday with those contacts, no matter how much saline I use–”

“No,” he says. He stands, and he swallows against nothing. It’s embarrassing for his age. “They don’t look silly. You should wear whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“I knew they looked silly,” you say again, turning toward the door. “Sir, you just stared at me. I never should’ve let Spencer tell me they looked cute.”

“They do look cute,” Hotch says, rounding his desk. He stands in front of it rather than crowd you at the door.

He isn’t unaware of his own influence. His moving has stopped you from leaving. His compliment, especially one far from his usual professionalism, sticks you like a flytrap.

“You look just as nice with them as you do without them,” he furthers. “I’ve never seen you wear them before.”

“Well, I was always underwhelming, growing up. I didn’t think glasses helped.”

“Underwhelming?” he asks.

You smile like you’ve caught him. He doesn’t like to be caught, and he turns away to pretend to look for something, but he’s saved by another presence on the landing.

“Oh my god,” Morgan says, looking you up and down with an affirmative, sweet appreciation. Morgan might make a show of it sometimes, but he’s genuine as he continues, “Sweetheart, what am I gonna do with you?”

“They’re not strange?” you ask.

“Is that what the boss man said?”

You look back at Hotch bashfully, and that look alone catches him all over again. Morgan watches through the doorway and he knows he’s doomed —Hotch’s feelings are, for that split-second, plain as day.

“He didn’t say they were strange, no,” you say gently.

Hotch wonders if he should insist on contacts after all. “They’re suitable for every day.”

“Suitable,” Morgan says.

Hotch gives him a you’re-pushing-it squint and everyone decides they have things to be doing, leaving him alone to panic. (He doesn’t panic, he’s not the type, he just remembers your new look and feels his heart give irregular pangs a few times an hour for the rest of the afternoon.)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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miirohs · 5 months ago

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birds of a feather [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: bad hurt/comfort (?) an: i got that skibidi found family type brainrot fs 😂 on gyatt.... anyways i promise i will get back to writing formula one but i need to simp for this man solidly. also i can't write hurt/comfort ive said this a million times but ugh man does it suck to write.

The house in Japan was a lot more peaceful than the one in the States. More secluded, quietly overlooking the city.

Every day you came home from work, the house dark and empty with Ken gone to his other job.

You didn’t bother him about it, keeping the delicate balance between his two jobs. You didn’t mind it either. It gave you time to yourself, time to adjust, but you weren’t sure you could’ve said the same about Ken.

Ever since his last run-in with the KDF, he’d been exhausted. His eyebags only grew instead of shrinking, and his watch went off almost every possible moment it could. You had asked him what was wrong, but he’d never been one to let you lick his wounds for him, watering it down to some kind of side effect of the stress on him.

Unlocking the doors, you hopped inside, pulling your shoes off as you looked around.

You could hear the tv running in the background, the clinking ice against metal. It wasn’t strange for him to be off duty after games, but you just assumed he wouldn’t be.

The beatdown was probably worse than usual, if you had to guess.

You wandered into the living room, and there he was, sitting in his ice bath. You couldn’t see much because of how dark the room was, but part of his face was lit by the replays on the screen.

You could almost make out his eyes narrowing at the screen, huffing as he sunk deeper into the water.

“Ken?” He turned to you, eyes pained as he pushed himself up.

“Hi baby.” He greeted softly, a hand tenderly moving to his side as he turned to you.

“Are you okay-“

“I’m fine.” You flinched at the strained quality of his voice.

“My bad. I was just trying to check on you.” You mumbled, holding up your hands as you stood stuck to your spot.

He saw, and his eyes softened, extending an inviting hand to you.

“I’m sorry. The seasons been kind of rough lately.” He murmured as he held your hand gently, squeezing it.

You hummed in response, eyes trailing down the expanse of his body. You could see some bruising, blooming in splotches of yellow, purple and red under his skin. It looked like it hurt.

“I’m taking it you got into a fight on field?”

“Not this time, no,” He scoffed, leaning against the warmth of your hand, “I collapsed, tried crawling my way to the last base, and failed. I was so close to getting those points.” The last part was tinged with embarrassment, his face pulled into a grimace as your hand ran across his arm.

“That's terrible, I'm sorry Ji.” He shrugged, eyes staring ahead at the screen, those embarrassing scenes reflecting back in his eyes. “It is what it is.”

“So you’re off duty tonight then?” He sighed, nodding reluctantly.

“For now, but who knows?” He said sullenly. You couldn’t stop your hopes from crashing entirely, hand slipping out of his unconsciously.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know how it is. I can’t control what happens, I…” He stopped, a look of regret creeping onto his face.

“I'll join you in a bit. Promise I'll try not to leave tonight?” He tried softly, looking at you with poorly disguised hope in his eyes.

It worked, and you released the breath you were holding.

“You’ll be okay?”

He didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him for one, quietly leaving the room.

True to his word, he appeared at the door an hour later, dragging himself across the threshold. He looked worse than he did earlier, wincing slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, hunched over into himself.

“That must have been one really good ice bath…” You trailed off, eyes narrowing at the various injuries on his arm.

“Those look awfully fresh Ji, did you at least get Mina to look at those?”

“No! No. Uh, no. I didn’t want her to.” He spluttered, crossing his arms. You couldn’t see his face, but you could almost imagine the expression he was making.

“Take off your shirt.” He blinked, a baffled look on his face as turned to you.

“No, why the-“

“Take off your shirt Ken, don’t make me say it again.”

He crossed his arms tighter as you got closer, hand outstretched. You paused, looking at him.

“Would you be okay with me looking?”

He nodded reluctantly, grumbling about not wanting to make a big deal out of it. He had turned away from you, breathing uneven as you got closer.

You pulled up his shirt, heart thumping at the sight. It was worse than what you’d seen earlier.

“Ji, what is this? How…?” He didn’t respond immediately, rubbing his face as he took a deep breath

“I didn’t think they were that bad,” He muttered, wincing as he pulled the shirt over his head, holding it in his hands tightly, “Not as bad as they were last week, babe.”

“How did you even get these?” You questioned, finger tracing up his spine, avoiding the poorly bandaged cuts and bruising.

“Do I have to tell you?” He said, flustering you with the defensiveness in his tone.

“No. No, you don’t have to.” You reaffirmed quietly, returning to your side of the bed to rummage through your night chest till you found what you needed. “But I would’ve liked it if you did.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I figured it would be. Hold still for me?”

You shook the bottle of neosporin, spraying down the wounds. He tensed up, a squeak escaping his lips.

“It hurts!”

“Would you rather Mina do it?”

He shook his head.

“That’s what I thought. Luckily these were already somewhat decently clean. That bruising looks like a muscle injury though.” You whistled, setting down the neosporin in favor of some bandaids.

He continued to let him work on your, mostly silent other than the occasional wincing. You could tell he was trying his hardest to play tough, unaware you could see through it all.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” He muttered suddenly, fists clenching the bedsheets as you gently laid the bandages on his back. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Kenji, I know it's tough for you, but I'm here because I want to be. I care about you." You scooted to the edge of the bed, looping a hand into his loosening fist.

The dim lights highlighted the sharpness of his face, eyes cutting through the dimmed light as they looked out the window. He looked beautiful, as exhausted as he was.

“I want to tell you. I don’t know if there will ever be a right time for you, and you deserve better than me being on the move all day and night.”

“Nope.” You popped the p, clutching his hand tighter. “We promised to stick together, remember? Hell, I followed you all the way from the states because I was confident we could work together. So, I need you to speak to me. Make it work.”

A heartbeat passed. And then he spoke.

“The pressure, the expectations... I feel like I'm constantly running, trying to keep up." He confessed quietly, “There's a lot riding on what I’ve done.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about baseball.”

“I’m not,” He laughed humorlessly, “I’m just worried I’m not doing enough. That I’m not enough.”

"Ken," you said softly, turning to him “I can’t pretend to understand what you do, but you’re making so many people proud. Your mother, your father, me.”

His eyes were glossed over, and he brought up an arm to cover them, sniffing slightly.

“I hope you know I’m here for you. Birds of a feather, we gotta stick together, you know? I’d follow you to hell and back Ken, and you know that.” You continued, bringing up his hand to press a kiss to it.

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the tears. "Thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "For everything."

“Of course,” you replied, leaning against him carefully.

“The next time you get injured, just let Mina or me know, understand?”

“Perfectly.”

#ken sato x reader #ken sato imagine #kenji sato / reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato / reader #ultraman rising #ultraman rising imagine #ultraman x reader #ultraman rising netflix #ultraman: rising #ultraman rising x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert

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k-hotchoisan · 2 months ago

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Hear me out... yeosang greek mythology-esque AU where every few decades a maiden is sent as a sacrifice to the one they believe is the god of love and fertility. A very confused deity yeosang usually just rolls with it and puts these young ladies to sleep for a night ot two before returning them to their people (cuz that one time he just sent someone back the entire village panicked and blamed her for not being a "good enough offering" and he felt bad for a century). But this time... for some reason... he just can't take his eyes off the sleeping girl before him (there can be backstory here like he's met her before while parading as a mortal or sumin idk) and decides... maybe this time he'll keep her...

alrighty aphrodite

every eleven years, a young maiden is chosen as sacrifice for the god of love and fertility, at least they think they do, only for Yeosang to put the sacrificed maiden to sleep because he doesn't want to deal with them.

but when it’s you being chosen to be the next maiden, Yeosang decides, maybe this time, he’s gonna keep you for himself instead.

Genre/warnings: smut with plot, (kinda) Greek god au deity yeosang x maiden!reader, mentioned elements of sacrifice (though not too heavy nor gory), unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, masturbation (m), obsessive softdom! Yeosang, he’s actually fucking whipped for you, praise kink, mentions of virginity (where reader is NOT but it’s not elaborated further), yearning!yeosang

wc: 6k

a/n: I’m sorry this took SO long to develop. Truth to be told, this prompt has been stuck at the back of my mind and boy, I really wanted to make this beauty work. Also a special thanks to @bro-atz for helping me develop (this is for you as well hehe) Enjoy! 🩷

Walking through the cold and pale marble temple, you watch the way the vines curl around the pillars, creeping its way up to get some sun. The temple is insanely huge, standing tall thanks to blocky pillars, with intricate carvings, which you identify as white marble being slowly overtaken by soft moss and stubborn vines.

You know, despite the gorgeous temple, its practices to serve Aphrodite were but.

Despite the anxiety you feel, you know you could do not much to fight against the elders and their ridiculous traditions. For centuries, chosen maidens by the fertility deity have been offered to appease the gods for the blessings of fertility of the town’s land and women every 11 years. No one knew how the gods looked like, but it seemed that every time a maiden was sent, the fields would bloom and flourish, couples would be blessed with a pregnancy.

Of course, why wouldn’t they continue this ridiculous tradition?

And this year, you were chosen.

You remember the last conversation you had with your mother before you had stepped foot into the temple.

“I’ll come back mother. Weren’t there rumours that one of the maidens managed to come back?”

Your mother’s index finger flew to her lips. “Be careful of what you utter, my daughter. They don’t like the reminder that their choice was rejected.”

You blinked at her, recalling the incident where one of the maidens got “returned” right after the ceremony and from what you could remember, led the elders to grow furious on top of anxious, then demanding that another sacrifice to be made, since the maiden was now considered “rejected” by the deity. The poor girl. Surely this deity couldn’t be that picky, right?

You continue to thread the path before you, the soles of your feet getting used to the coldness of the marble floor by now.

You enter the fountain room, and as its title, sits a large marble fountain, a statue lady draped over with a long piece of fabric looking down onto three cupids that spit out water, while she, herself pours water out of a vase.

The sound of flowing water could honestly put you to sleep, if it wasn’t a curt reminder that you’re meant to drown here. Rose petals decorate and almost fully cover the surface of the bottomless fountain. Maybe it was a ploy to at least relax the previous maidens. There are a handful of people, all dressed in white robes that hide their faces, while the elders are dressed in ivory.

“There she is. Beautiful y/n”, the elder woman smiles, the emotion not reaching her eyes. You force a smile back. “Come, the water’s not cold.”

You dip your toes in.

The water is fucking cold.

“Think of it as a blessing to us, that you’re doing a gracious service to the village”, another elder curtly reminds you while she tosses more rose petals into the fountain.

Two other women lie you down onto the water and more petals are strewn across the surface. Your hair is wet by now and so is your dress. You cringe at how cold the water is biting against your skin but you bear with it.

The older woman turns around.

“We are gathered here today to witness the blessing Aphrodite will be giving us. We pray that the maiden reaches the goddess safely and may she stay in good hands”, she announces with clasped hands.

“May Aphrodite bless us all.” She yells, her hands raised to the heavens, before the two hooded elders beside her shove your body into the fountain, sinking you to the depths, the last thing you’re hearing are loud chants that gradually become muted as you slowly accept your fate.

A familiar hymn plays, and it catches Yeosang’s attention.

“The maiden offering is here”, his Cupid announces.

Yeosang only sighs in defeat, annoyed that his rose gardening has been interrupted, muttering how these mortals were being ridiculous, while still walking over to his marble foundation, careful not the crush the roses that had fallen onto the grass.

“I genuinely have no idea how to stop these people from sending women down the fountain”, he complains to nobody in particular.

“Why not just appear in front of them and tell them you’re the deity?” The little Cupid suggests as he floats beside Yeosang.

He turns to his minion with folded arms. “No way. These people would pelt me with stones before they even decide to give me a chance to prove that I am. I’ll just do the usual.”

“Put them to sleep and then tie a red string on their ankles?”

“-to make sure they don’t get hurt or freak out or something. Then send them back up when enough time has passed.”, he continues with a small pout. “I’m still shocked at the way they freaked out when I sent the previous one back four decades ago.”

The Cupid purses his lips, listening to Yeosang rant about this for the nth time ever since he took over the temple and the rituals started every 11 decades as they near the fountain.

He continues his rant up till he reaches the fountain. “Besides, none of them they send are ever my cup of tea. I’m sure this one’s not any-“

Then Yeosang immediately quietens down when his eyes land on the sleeping maiden before him. His Cupid casts him a confused glance, then back to the maiden on the fountain, wondering what suddenly silenced Yeosang.

It’s just another maiden, his Cupid thinks.

On the contrary, Yeosang can’t seem to keep his eyes off the maiden who’s unconscious, covered in rose petals like the previous maidens. What made her so different? He doesn’t know, but there’s a strange tinge of familiarity when he rests his eyes on your sleeping figure.

The cupid’s eyes widen when Yeosang personally picks you up from the water with his bare hands. He never did that to the previous maidens, for he would complain about getting his robes wet.

He sets you down on the cloud bed, watching how you’re breathing softly while he waits for the cupids to hand him a spare robe for you to change into.

“Yeosang, aren’t you gonna change out?” His Cupid asks as he hands Yeosang the fresh set of robes.

You stir from your slumber, feeling softness against your skin. You slowly open your eyes, before you remember what happened, and you shoot up, soaking in the unfamiliar environment surrounding you. It’s a beautiful, spacious, and airy room. Your eyes land on a male who’s fitting stalks of roses into a glass vase.

“In a bit”, Yeosang replies, his eyes not lifting from you.

He turns to you just in time, and you freeze.

Oh gods, he’s stunning. His eyes are a shade of gray that makes him look all the more dreamy, and his lashes are long. His hair is a soft platinum blonde, contrasted by the bright red roses that rest on his hair. He looks like a statue himself.

“You’re awake”, he greets with a curt nod.

“You’re-“

“—Aphrodite‘s descendant, Deity Kang Yeosang”, the flying child announces.

“Oh! Pardon my rudeness, Deity”, you squeak, going on your knees, your hands on the cold, marble ground.

But Yeosang has his hands around you, lifting you up. “You don’t need to-“

“Oh but I should. You’ve been blessing our village with bountiful fields and beautiful children. It’s only right that I bow on their behalf”, you insist. Yeosang is speechless, mostly because it’s the first time that he has allowed a maiden to be conscious around his quarters, and that he’s speaking to one. He doesn’t really know what to do, let alone why he even did that in the first place.

Yeosang looks away sheepishly. “It’s part of my job. Please, you may rise.” Despite his seemingly soft demeanour, you realise how chiseled his arms are, his muscles lifting you up together with him. When you’re finally facing him, you can’t help but wonder if this was the view that every maiden had—and that maybe it’s not so bad after all.

Yeosang practically gave you the living quarters you woke up in, in which you were obviously thankful, offering for any help in exchange for it. Yeosang declined but you insisted, telling him you should repay him, so he decides to let you tend to one of his rose gardens around the temple.

It had been a few days since.

By then, you had warmed up to the deity, spending time with him in the gardens, exchanging stories. Through these interactions, you realise how mellow and soft Yeosang is—usually stories of gods warn of them being picky, petty and sometimes, even wrathful. Yeosang didn’t seem to tick all of these boxes. It seemed like he would rather tend to his myriad rose gardens and caring for his cupids.

“Has anyone told you you’re absolutely beautiful, Yeosang?” You say, missing the way his ears are turning as pink like the roses that lie on his head. The both of you are cutting off the fresh buds that bloomed to collect the petals that afternoon.

Yeosang’s cheeks flushes, rubbing the nape of his neck with a smile. It’s no different from what he always hears, especially as Aphrodite’s descendant, but to hear it from you makes him feel flustered for some reason.

“I mean not just how you look, but the way you treat the things around you.”

“I’m not following”, a confused Yeosang replies, and it makes you giggle.

“I’m saying, you’re gentle and kind too.”

Gentle and kind. Of course he is, considering that has been something he’s been his whole life. It’s well known how much of a temperamental and petty his ascendant had been known to be, and he knows he’s not like that.

Distracted by his thoughts, he feels a sharp pain shoot in his finger. He flinches and pulls his hand away, realising his finger has been cut by a rose thorn.

This has never happened before.

"Are you okay? Let me see-" you interject, taking his hand to inspect if the cut was deep, and you instinctually place his finger against your lips to suck on his skin.

Yeosang's heartbeat is climbing at an exponential rate right now, wondering why do your lips feel so soft. Would it feel as soft if it wasn't just on his fingers? How would you taste against him?

"Are you okay, Yeosang?" your voice snaps him out of his rapidly growing crooked thoughts. His eyes meet yours and he forces a smile, letting himself enjoy the way you're gently stroking his fingers. He thinks it feels nice.

"It doesn't hurt. Don't worry", his voice lowers a pitch, his gaze softening as he watches the way your hands go from stroking his injured finger to playing around with the rest of his fingers, thinking it would help ease the sting.

Yeosang places his hand on your cheek, gently stroking against your skin and his smile spreads to you.

“Thank you. I’ll go and wash the wound. Don’t worry about it, really. It’s just a small cut”, he assures, almost reluctant to leave your side when you let him go, and he walks back to his chambers.

As he rinses his hands, Yeosang's cupid floats to his side, watching the way his deity has his eyes locked onto the maiden.

“You haven't sent her back up, Yeosang. I’ve never seen you do that.”

Yeosang doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to reply.

There is silence for a while, as the Cupid watches Yeosang bloom the roses.

“How long will you keep her?”

Yeosang watches the way you smell the roses from his bedroom window. His heart flutters.

“For a little longer.”

You watch the rain fall and hit the leaves from the window of your room. The room is spacious, much too spacious for your liking. It wasn't you that you didn't hate being in the temple, having Yeosang and his little Cupids around were comforting, but during some days, the thorns of being home sick would prick you.

Something is starting to bubble in Yeosang when his thoughts drift to you as night falls. Unfortunately, he seems to have realised it too late.

Undoubtedly, the incident of Yeosang getting pricked by his rose bushes closed the distance between the both you. And that night, you realise you didn’t want to sleep alone.

That night, Yeosang is still up, his concentration on finishing a book he had bought from the mortal realm. Then he hears a soft knock on his open door.

His gazes flies to his door, his heart speeding up when he sees that it’s you standing at his doorway.

“Is it okay for me to intrude?” You ask. “I feel lonely in such a big room.”

Yeosang blinks before remembering to respond.

“Sure. There’s plenty of space on the bed”, he offers, shifting uselessly on the large bed to make space for you. You break into a smile, crawling into his shared space, the comfort of having Yeosang by your side already easing your worries.

“What are you reading?” You ask, peeking over to his book trapped in his long fingers.

He tips the book to show you the cover.

“I got it at the marketplace.”

Your eyes brighten.

“Right! You can travel to the mortal realm”, you remember him briefly mentioning it to you.

He nods. “I can bring you back to the village from time to time to get stuff if you want.”

“You can bring me back?”

“I try to, discreetly, I guess. The mortals in the village for some reason didn’t like it when I brought back one of the maidens back directly once.”

Suddenly, the pieces start to fall into place. It’s all starting to make sense.

Yeosang doesn’t realise he’s frowning. “You…yearn to go back there?” The words taste bitter in his mouth while he waits for your answer.

“Well, I’ve grown rather attached to this place actually. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go back from time to time. You can send me back whenever you’re ready to, Yeosang”, you reply.

Oh gods. Yeosang was internally preparing for the worst but for now, he’s satisfied with whatever arrangement he has with you. He’s never had a maiden stay longer than this, and he’s getting very comfortable with your companionship.

You stifle a yawn, eyelids growing heavy. Your fingers brush against his playfully, and it gets his attention even though his eyes are empty on the pages of his book.

“You’re my favourite thing about this temple”, you mutter, shutting your eyes. Yeosang freezes in his spot, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I think you’re my favourite thing about being a deity”, is his delayed reply. When he turns to gaze upon you, you’re asleep—comfortable and calm—just a hair’s breadth away from him.

That night, he had the most comfortable night of sleep since the past few decades.

Since then, your own bed in your quarters grew cold, and Yeosang’s bed only grew warmer as you continued to seek comfort with the deity.

Yeosang wouldn’t lay his hands on you, even though he was fine with your small touches. He’d grown accustomed to it.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t change the fact that his heartbeat accelerates when he feels you shift closer to him and lean your head against his arm or shoulder—whichever you felt like it—while you join him in reading whatever novel he has his nose buried into.

Your hair brushes gently against his skin again, and it’s making him more jumpy than usual for some reason. Is it the way that he’s conscious of how physically close you are to him? Is it the way that your scent surrounds him like a veil recently? Is it the way your laughter sounds more beautiful than the hymns the harps could play?

He glances down at you, realising you’ve fallen into slumber, your breathing light. Yeosang smiles, his gaze landing on your face.

Then the scent of you hits—sweet and intense—it makes Yeosang’s mind cloud. He feels his body warm up, and his eyes trail down from your face to your bare shoulders—where the strap of your nightgown had slipped past your shoulder—the lace trimming of your nightwear had lowered down your chest, revealing your soft breasts just shy of your nipples—

Fuck. Yeosang’s mind is on its road to being a goner. The discomfort that’s starting to bulge against his robes being the biggest indicator.

He seeps deeper into his twisted fantasies, letting his hand slip down to palm his thickness, groans leaving his lips soft and controlled enough so that he doesn’t wake you up. His suppressed fantasies start to bubble to the surface—flashes of you in between his legs, your tongue lapping his nectar from his base to the tip, then struggling to take his cock full into your pretty mouth. Shit. It’s driving him to the edge. Yeosang swallows hard. He knows that everything about this is so wrong, but he can’t help it. The pleasure trickling into his veins and the risk of getting caught if he’s too loud—it only adds onto the rush that his cock is feeling, and he’s fucking loving it.

The robe is slowly shed off his chiseled body, the speed of his hand fucking his cock increasing when his fantasies start turning to you above him, settling onto his cock, eyes so glazed out and pretty for him while he spilts you open. He dreams of melting into your velvet heat and it only makes more precum leak out of his cockhead while he struggles to keep his breathing slow.

He eyes flutter shut, a strained moan slipping past his lips. He doesn’t know how you’re not being awoken by now, but frankly, he doesn’t care.

And when you shift in your sleep slightly, accompanying your movements with a sleepy groan, it only makes Yeosang’s predicament worse. He watches the way your top has completely slipped down, your nipple growing perky and hard from the cool air. Oh, what he’d do get a taste of it between his lips.

The sounds of his hand fucking grow louder when his thoughts grow wilder when he wonders how you’d taste between your legs—sweet like the nectar of the roses you grow for him maybe.

The precum seeping only grows white and thicker, the sensitivity burning through his body, making Yeosang press his head deeper against his pillows, his hand movements more desperate.

When his fantasies reach to one of you cumming and fluttering with tears in your eyes on his cock, Yeosang bursts with a broken cry of your name, his white and thick cum making a mess of his body and undone robe. His breathing is shaky, staring at the thick cum that stained his hand under the silver moonlight.

It was then the realisation looms over him--there's no way it's possible to send you back up. Not when the need to hear you scream and cry his name is creeping into his veins like the thorny vines of his rose bush.

“With all these roses around, doesn’t Yeosang get sick of the smell?” You ask the Cupid while your hands are busy snipping off the buds.

He shrugs. “I guess he’s used to it.”

The Cupid casts another glance to the rose bush, furrowing his eyebrows, seemingly reflecting his confusion.

“Although, you’re not wrong—the roses recently seem to smell stronger, and I’ve never seen buds this dark before.”

“Something wrong with the roses?” You hear the soft deep voice echo through your ears.

“Yeosang!”, you exclaim, realising the subtle change in him—the roses that sit around his pale hair like flower crown are now as dark as the roses on the rose bush.

You absentmindedly reach out to touch the roses on his hair, amazed by the deep crimson hue. “No, Cupid and I were just mesmerised at how pretty the dark roses are, actually.”

His smile fills your stomach with butterflies.

“Were you? I’m glad you and Cupid seem to like them.”

Yeosang lets his hands linger on your cheek for a moment longer, his warm spreading through your skin.

“I’ll see you tonight as usual, y/n?”

You nod, but for some reason, the expression Yeosang casts you sets a whole cage of butterflies into your stomach.

He’s satisfied with your answer and he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to your temple, the smell of roses floating around you, before he strolls back to his quarters, humming to himself.

For some reason, something feels a little different that night.

You walk into Yeosang’s chambers as usual, as you always do. He has his novel in his hands, but his eyes glance at you at his doorway the moment he feels your presence.

You slide into his bed, like you always have done, noticing the comforting warmth that the deity radiated seemed slightly a little hotter than usual. But you attribute it to the fact that it had been pouring quite a bit lately, including tonight.

The moment you crawled into Yeosang's space, he has his palm spread over your exposed thigh, his warmth spreading across your skin.

“Isn't someone eager today”, you tease, absentmindedly returning his touch, much to Yeosang's surprise.

“It's been cold lately, and your warmth is the only thing I've grown used to”, Yeosang replies with a gentle smile, and it makes your stomach burst with butterflies.

“As with you”, you giggle, inching closer to the male.

Yeosang reflects your bloom with a soft smile, before his attention returns to his book. You rest yourself against his arm, as you always do.

This night, Yeosang realises he can't concentrate on reading, not when he's hyper aware of the floral shampoo that's emitting off you. You've always been using the same floral shampoo, so why does the smell seem to come off stronger this time?

His thoughts are then interrupted when he hears you soft sigh as you shift your weight against his arm, his eyes locked at the way the strap of your nightgown slips past your shoulder once more, the gown dropping slightly lower, barely revealing your soft and perky nipples.

Yeosang doesn't realise his fingers are clamping onto the pages, hard.

He averts his gaze back to the book that he knows it's pointless to get back to, so he shuts it.

Your eyes rake over his bothered expression, and your mind swims with worry.

“Are you okay, Yeosang?”

Yeosang turns his attention to you, forcing a smile. His words come out uncertain, “of course. I just need a breather. Give me a second, y/n.” He drops the book onto his nightstand before he leaves the bed to the balcony. You decide it's best to leave him be, while you keep yourself busy with the pile of books Yeosang bought for you on his nightstand.

Yeosang is barely confident that he's finally composed himself, but he decides to enter his room once he feels his heart gradually slow. He brushes off the crimson rose petals that had landed on his shoulder.

Since when have his petals gotten this red?

He returns back to his room, and all of that self preservation immediately falls apart when the view before him on his bed is you–relaxed, with the sheets off you, your bare legs in full view for him to take in, your sheer nightgown bunched up to your thighs as your nose is deep into your novel.

Yeosang remains silent as he inches towards to your side of the bed, and his movements definitely catch your attention. You look up and your eyes meet his, trailing him as he slowly settles down right in front of you.

“Can I help you?” You tease, shutting the book. Yeosang doesn't answer, but rather, he lets his fingers dance along your leg, and up until he pauses at your knee.

You watch the way his eyes glimmer against the moonlight, then how it highlights his features like a marble statue.

He's leaning closer.

His eyes are downcast for a second before they find the resolve to meet yours.

“Could I…?” he mutters, shyness reflected in his gaze.

His palm is flat against your knee now, and he's warm to the touch.

You're suddenly feeling curious yet shy. You lower your gaze when you feel his palm press against your cheek, then lean in. His hands feel like comfort. Your eyes flutter open and you meet Yeosang’s stare.

His mind is going haywire when you look at him like that.

There is tension in the air, silence so loud you could hear two hearts fluttering if you listened hard enough.

“Please”, you reply softly, loud enough for him to hear.

Before you could process it, Yeosang leans in for a deep kiss, determined to steal your breath and heart away as his lips collide against yours. He traps you against the bed, and your hands are around his neck, slowly lingering on his soft locks of hair.

Red petals are slowly filling up the white spaces on the white sheets as Yeosang grows greedy–he’s pulled away from your lips, now he's messing with your cheek, then your jawline, then down your neck. His hands are going down. You gasp when you feel him cup your breasts. There's no way he doesn't feel your nipples grow harder through the thin fabric, and he makes full use of it to pinch and roll in between his fingertips, the sparks going right to your soaked pussy.

Yeosang lets you off momentarily, and the strange glint in his eyes don't go unnoticed by you. Too caught up in the moment though, you let him continue with whatever he wants to do. He continues kissing down south, teasing you with the fact that he's not letting his lips touch your skin directly. Every soft gasp and sigh he hears from you is his reward.

Then, he stops right at the wet patch of fabric in between your legs.

You swear his eyes form hearts.

“You're already so wet for me?” He asks, which doesn't come off much as a question. His finger grazes along the damp fabric, and the wetness spreads even more. It’s driving Yeosang off the edge. You're driving Yeosang off the edge.

All Yeosang is thinking is that you're such a perfect gift. He wouldn't have asked for more.

The perfect offering.

Perfect for him to ruin.

A thought crosses Yeosang’s mind–how far can he get your thin and useless panties soaked? He nuzzles against the warm and sticky fabric, trying his best to ignore the way his cock is just painfully throbbing to be let out.

“Yeosang–!” You cry out, accidentally flattening some of the roses in his hair when the sensitivity bursts dully in your pussy.

You're suddenly feeling self-conscious even though your mind is slowly sinking into the sins Yeosang is gravitating you into.

Your cunt is getting soaked by the second, to the point your panties have pretty much grown transparent, so sticky and wet from your cream.

It doesn't change the fact that worries still flicker in and out of your mind.

You're not a virgin. Would Yeosang approve of that? Would he be disgusted that you aren't?

You feel his fingers slither up your thighs, his thump hooking onto the waistband of your panties before he completely pulls your panties off, your pulsing wet pussy blooming like the most gorgeous flower Yeosang's ever seen.

Before Yeosang’s ready to reward himself, you squeeze your thighs, stopping him.

He looks up at you, his eyes slowly glazed over, waiting for you to let him.

How is he so patient?

“I’m not a virgin—“

“It doesn't matter, darling”, Yeosang cuts you off while he presses his nose against your supple thighs, taking in a sharp inhale, letting your scent turn him dizzy. “I’ve always dreamed of hearing you scream my name when I’m fucking you.”

You struggle to keep your breathing in check, dazed and taking in this newfound side of Yeosang that seemingly bloomed from nowhere.

“I'll make you feel so good, darling”, he promises, a teasing lick just to the side of your pussy, and your rationale completely dissolves.

Yeosang pulls your legs apart, smiling against your skin when you don't offer resistance, then he presses his tongue against your wet cunt.

You taste like heaven, is what is repeating in Yeosang’s head, over and over. He wants to make sure he sucks you dry. You squirm against him, the pleasure building recklessly whenever Yeosang drives his tongue against your clit, your moans turning into a mix of cries. Your wetness isn't drying up anytime soon, that's for sure.

“So fucking good. Y-Yeosang…”, your lashes are wet, and with every flick of his tongue on your clit, it builds so fucking good that your legs have completely spread open for Yeosang, your cunt shamelessly leaking more creamy nectar for Yeosang to indulge in. He brings his tongue up to your clit once more, dragging the soft muscle against it.

“You're so close, aren't you? Your sweetness is just getting better”, Yeosang hums.

Your fingers clutch against the soft pillows under you, your mind slowly starts to blank and break. It feels so fucking good that Yeosang has to hold your hips down so he can tongue fuck you better.

“Be a good girl for me–cum as hard as you want.”

A choked sob echoes in his chambers while you go completely undone–shaking and pulsing against his tongue, your vision washed out by white as the pleasure seeps into each nerve and crevice of your brain.

Yeosang is still lapping your cream up, dizzy from how you cummed all over his face. He really wants to make you do that over and over again until you break.

The remnants of your orgasm and the overstimulation has you twitching in the best ways possible. You halt Yeosang–stealing his attention with your fingers under his chin. Yeosang looks up at you, burying his cheek against your palm while his tongue peeks out past his lips to lick the off the remainder of your cream on his face. Your thumb caresses his soft cheek and Yeosang appeases you for a moment before he climbs over you, his palm covering your wrist, guiding you down to the knot of his robe. Your fingers grab onto the loose end and you tug–his robe completely loosens. He leans in closer, letting your hands wander his body, flicking the robe away until Yeosang is fully naked before you.

He's nothing short of a marble statue–everything about him is completely ethereal. As much as you’re admiring his bare body, your eyes can't help but wander to his thick cock. Even his cock is so pretty especially when it's glistening and hard, in a sheen of precum.

His voice is deeper now and it tickles your ears.

“I don't think I can go slow on you, my love”, Yeosang mutters, before he presses his lips onto the back of your hand. His crimson eyes meet yours, and your heart skips a beat.

“I don't wanna.”

He fits a pillow under your hips, and his cock is easily resting right at your pulsing, wet hole.

“Wanna feel you all the way, Yeosang. You can go as deep as you want”, you whisper, just craving to be fucked now.

Yeosang smiles in reply, before he lines himself to your cunt and pushes himself in an inch or two.

A curt “fuck” slips past your lips, and your abdomen tenses once Yeosang starts fitting more of himself into your tight hole.

“Gods, you feel so fucking amazing. So fucking warm for me”, Yeosang curses, his fingertips pressing onto your hips to keep any remainder of his sanity intact.

When he finally has his dick fully fit in you, you look like you're about to cry.

His fingers brush your cheek.

“Are you okay there?”

You nod. “You just feel so full in me.” Yeosang laughs, then groans when you squeeze him again.

“I'm gonna start moving.”

The lewd sounds of skin slapping start filling up the room once more, one wetter than the other.

His thrusts have you clawing the sheets once more, eyes rolled back and pussy clamping him down for more.

He grunts at the way you're squeezing him.

“I'll fill you up so good, my love. Make you so swollen–full of my pretty little offspring just for you to bear”, he mutters in your ear.

Your head is spinning as the pleasure builds up in your abdomen once more every time his cock hits your g-spot. The thought of Yeosang making sure you're leaking full of his seed, that he wants to breed you so badly throws out any rational thought out of your head. You want it so fucking bad too.

“You feel so better than heaven, you know?” He manages, the thread of his rationale thinning the more he's fucking into you. “I really want you all to myself.”

His thrusts are getting heavier and every time his cockhead presses onto your g-spot, it sends you into an orbit. You're seeing fucking stars or flowers–they’re starting to look the fucking same at this rate.

“Yeosang!”, you cry out, your toes curling from the pleasure hitting you over and over again. You leave light marks down his pale skin. Your cunt has him tight in you, and it makes him dazed. His moans are filling up your ears while his cum fills up your pussy.

The high slowly descends, leaving both of you catching your breaths, his face in your hands, eyes locked onto each other. You watch the dark red in his eyes slowly lighten but still remain red.

Had he always donned such deep red eyes?

“How are you feeling?” He asks, letting his fingers travel down the curves of your body.

You giggle tiredly, “a little sleepy.”

He covers your eyes with his slender fingers. “Then rest

Yeosang stares at the way you slowly sink into your slumber, huddled close to him.

He brushes away the blood red rose petals that fall on your shoulders.

I can’t help it if I adore you this much. I’m keeping you for a little longer. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, right?

💘bonus epilogue💘

Yeosang knew he was about to be chided for always escaping his duties by hiding in the mortal world. Not that Eros would care anyway.

No human comes around here, and that’s another reason why Yeosang loves this specific spot. If he’s feeling slightly more daring, he might hide himself amongst the mortals while he window shops at the marketplace, but for today, relaxing is on itinerary instead.

He walks over to his usual tree, humming to himself.

Then he stops himself in his tracks, his eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. Someone is already occupying his tree. He watches the maiden hum to herself, her hands busy with picking flowers and she sits the stalks on her lap.

Unfortunately, Yeosang is the last deity to be confrontational, and he’s ready to just turn and leave—

“Oh gods! You’re breathtaking.”

He stops in his tracks, and turns back slowly.

His finger points to himself accompanied with a confused expression he wears.

“Me?”

He’s only met with laughter that sounded like sun rays when dawn first breaks.

“I’m sorry. I probably scared you. It’s just, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I’ve always wanted ask—has anyone told you that you’re beautiful?”

Plenty.

You laugh again. It tickles Yeosang’s ears.

“You’ve probably heard it many times. But I still want to say it—you’re beautiful.”

That day Yeosang hums a wonderful tune that even Cupid has never heard before. His attention goes back to tending his rose garden, his slender fingers getting busy, brushing against the bud of the roses, blooming them full.

He notices Cupid's surprised gaze, before he plucks a rose bud out to hand it to him.

“What's wrong, Cupid? Never seen a red rose before?”

Cupid furrows his eyebrows, his gaze reflecting confusion on top of curiosity before he shakes his head in reply.

“Yeosang…this is the first time I'm seeing you bloom red roses.”

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